


A Kiss Goodbye

by ophelia1991



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelia1991/pseuds/ophelia1991
Summary: Max is captured by Project Shepherd. He can’t remember how he got there and if anyone knows he’s missing. His powers are blocked, he can’t call for Isobel or Michael, and his body is drugged. He can’t escape this, can he?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deep dive into Max's psyche. Heavy angst, not sure where it will lead but let me know if it's worth it to keep going.

I. _Beautiful Undone_

 

 

Max wakes up on a cold table. He has been bleeding. There’s an incision across his ribs. Loose black stitches. His wrists and ankles are secured by leather cuffs. There’s some sort of catheter in one arm.

He blinks a few times. The harsh light overhead makes it hard to see his surroundings. He’s in a bunker of sorts. A lab? A hospital? He doesn’t know how long he’s been there. Or how long he’s been out.

 

Panic is on the precipice. His body is in extreme pain. It builds.

 

“Is anybody there! Please! Somebody help me! Please.”

 

A mask is placed over his mouth and all is black again.

 

* * *

  
  


When he wakes up, he is naked, his body submerged in water. He sits in a metal tub. He tries to move but he is paralyzed. Body sluggish. Still no memory.

 

A woman before him in a lab coat is wearing a mask across her face. He can’t quite make out her face.

 

“Don’t worry, we’re just cleaning you up. We’ll have you dry in no time.” she says.

 

He looks down to find his wrists tied to his ankles. Knees bent. She uses a rag to scrub at his back. Blood mixes in the water. There are scratches and tiny wounds all over his body. The soapy water biting at their edges. He still can't remember.

 

“We’re not going to kill you, you know. Not yet at least. We have you on mild sedation. It’s better for you not to struggle.”

 

He tries to talk but his tongue is heavy. His mind too groggy to formulate a sentence.

 

“Once you’re clean, we’ll get you in a gown and to Sergeant Master Manes. He has questions for you. Afterwards we’ll get started.”

 

Her hands have moved to his chest, avoiding his plastic-wrapped incision.

 

“We know it was you who tampered with the grid a few weeks ago. Your partner told us all about the hospital. Your electro-magnetic powers. Not that she understood what you were, or what she was giving up. What’d you do to piss her off?”

 

She laughs and starts on his arms. Max’s lips are dry, his throat parched. All he can do in response is blink. 

 

“Pretty sneaky of you to hide in plain sight, like that too. Joining the police force. So no one could suspect you. Your time is up now though. Manes is going to get the information he needs. It’s the first time we got one you alive. We’ve been watching all of you, but you’re the one we want.”

 

His heart is pounding.

 

“We’re gonna take you apart piece by piece. We’ll keep you awake the whole time. Make you watch.”

 

“You’re terrified. I can hear it, Alien cop. Funny how fear is universal. If you’re thinking you can run, you can’t. Your powers are blocked, and you have Ms. Ortecho to thank for that.”

 

At the mention of Liz’s name, his body shakes with involuntary rage. The water sloshing at the edge of the tub.

 

“Whoa, there. Relax, cowboy. Don't go giving us ideas. And if you get me wet, I'll have to punish you later.”

 

Max closes his eyes and retreats inward. He is helpless.

 

The first time he retreated was after he discovered his powers in the desert with Michael and Isobel. His powers were bound so strongly to his emotions. His need to protect Isabel generating enough electricity to blow a man’s breath out. He couldn’t have stopped his death, even if he wanted to. They never spoke about it afterwards. Isobel’s blackouts were hard to hide from their parents. They were afraid for her. 

 

But Max was also afraid of himself. Of the three of them: he was the killer. 

 

 

They didn't ask questions. They didn't know where to find the answers, but mostly, they were afraid of the truth they would uncover. They never looked hard enough. They wanted to be normal. Max wanted to be normal. He thought they could live their life in denial forever hiding. Live and die as humans. Masks always on. Maybe when they found their bodies, the secret would be out but death seemed a long way away. 

 

So instead, he learned to put away the fear—

 

Liz Ortecho. 

 

He remembers her beauty, her lush laugh, her dancing. Before Rosa. She knew joy. He knew even when life was broken, she would find her way back because she was good. He wanted to be good for her. The way she would look at him—he’d never met anyone like that before. She saw him in a town where most people overlooked the shy quiet kid in the corner. He’d wanted to be overlooked. To be safe. But not with Liz. She was the first person he’d ever wanted to be seen by and who saw him without his asking.

 

Whenever he retreated inside, he would think of her. His beacon. If only he was worthy of her, of loving her. Of letting her love him. It was a dream that kept the fear under lock and key. He was afraid to wake up from that dream. Afraid of who he would find inside himself.  He'd wonder instead what it would be like for her to love him. For her to know who he was, for her to trace her hands across the tips of each of his fingers, and tell him that he was beautiful and good and loved. That he was not broken. She was brilliant, even then. He'd wanted to lay bare before her and let her uncover all the truth inside of him, a confession, because maybe, just maybe, the way she would look at him would release him. Maybe she would forgive him his sins. God maybe if she loved him, he could love himself too. 

 

At one point, in high school, he thought he could let her in. But she would never love him if she knew what he was. And after she found out about Rosa, he knew it with absolute certainty.

 

Michael. Isobel. They loved him because they had no other choice. Because if not them, then who?

 

But Liz.

 

He would always be unworthy.

 

An accomplice. An alien. A killer.

 

He couldn’t remember how he ended up at the bunker. But he knew Liz wouldn’t come looking for him. Not this time.

 

Neither Isobel nor Michael.

 

He was all alone.

 

He had always felt alone.

 

“Okay, cowboy, let’s get you dry and to Manes.”

 

This time it was true.

 


	2. Visions of Gideon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I started this before 1x09 aired, so veering a little off canon but will try to bring it up to speed. Still a whole lotta angst! But thank you for humoring me!

“Hook him up to the monitor.”

 

It’s Manes.

 

Max tries to ration his breathing. There’s a sheet draped over his lap. He is naked, strapped to a chair. Wires connected to his chest and forehead.

 

They want him afraid. Every bone in his body aches to cave in.

 

The sound of his heartbeat fills the room.

 

“Here’s how this is gonna go, Evans,” Manes starts, “I’ll ask a few questions. For every wrong answer, I’ll send a tiny shockwave straight to your brain. Not enough to kill you, but just enough to short you out. But push me too far, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll forget how to breathe for a few minutes. Hours even.”

 

He moves closer to Max, “Now let’s give this a try, shall we?” stroking a finger down the line of his neck. Max keeps his eyes open, and concentrates on a steady stream of inhales and exhales.

 

“I’ll make the first one easy for you.”

 

Max locks eyes with Manes.

 

“What’s your real name, Evans?”

 

He stays silent.

 

If he had a name other than Max, it’s long gone now. Buried in the deep recesses of his subconscious. Out in some desert. Maybe he knew it once. Maybe it’s just a trapped bullet, waiting to be dislodged. Maybe in time, he’d remember. But as far as he knows now, he’s only ever been Max. Max who woke up nameless and 7 years old without a shred of clothing on his back. Isobel clinging to one hand while his other gestured at Michael glassy-eyed and lost, just a few steps behind them.

 

They may have been conceived on another planet, but they had been born on this one. They knew of nothing else.

 

“Are you sure that’s your answer, Evans?”

 

Max looks deeper into Manes—his eyes immovable.

 

“Give him a taste, then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Max wakes up again.

 

His body is covered in glass from the lamp that had once been overhead.

 

Manes sits across from him, leaning against the edge of something, “Welcome back, Evans.”

 

His eyes are hurt and unfocused. He blinks to clear his vision, instead a rush of liquid slips down the edge of his cheek.

 

Water? Blood?

 

“That was barely a tease, you know. You should ask your brother, Guerrin. He could tell you what I did to his hand.”

 

A distant light flickers. Max hadn’t known.

 

“Hmm, did that get under skin, huh? I made my son watch. Such a shame you couldn’t heal him. But maybe you didn’t want to. He’s vile you know.”

 

Max looks upward, tracing the blurred shadows overhead. He could feel his power repressed but surging inside him, like it was bottled up and sealed. Still the rage builds up and he could feel the tips of his fingers grow numb. God how he wanted it to stop.

 

“Do you know how I broke it? Did he tell you why?”

 

“The only vile thing in here is you.” Max says. His throat chalky.

 

“He speaks. Funny—you defending Guerrin. He’s not looking for you, you know. Doesn’t even know you’re missing.”

 

Manes clicks a remote in his hand and a screen comes on.

 

“Wanna see?”

 

Max blinks toward the harsh light, black dots dancing across his vision. They focus slightly, and he can see a live feed outside Michael’s trailer. Isobel is with him. Michael’s drinking beer.

 

“Max Evans missing. And not a care in the world.”

 

His heart wrenches.

 

_They don’t know, that’s why. They just don’t know something’s wrong. Isobel loves him. Michael loves him, in spite of everything. Despite everything._

 

“Do you remember your last conversation with him?”

 

_Yes._

 

“Answer the question, Evans.”

 

_I told him he wasn’t my family._

 

“Mm, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Wrong answer, Evans.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a light flickering when his eyes open. There are trees everywhere. Tall, beautiful, green. The sun is hiding between the branches.

 

He feels like he’s floating. When he looks down, his feet are firmly in dirt.

Max is not quite sure how he’s here. It looks nothing like the desert—nothing like he’d ever seen outside of books and tv screens. It can’t be Roswell.

 

So many trees.

 

The sky is not quite blue, but minty. There’s flushes of pink around the high sun overhead.

 

He starts to walk forwards. Is this way north? Or west? Does it matter?

 

The trees start to clear a little. He hears a rustle. Is someone else here?

 

“Hello!” Max calls out.

 

There are birds. He can’t quite see them, but he can hear them singing.

 

“Hello! Is somebody here?”

 

A rustle of fabric—white, catches a bush ahead of him.

 

He starts to run.

 

“Hello! Who’s there! Please, stop. Don’t run!”

 

He may as well be chasing a ghost and yet his feet refuse to stop.

 

His body tingles the closer he gets. He can make out a slender leg. Is it a woman? Is she like him?

 

“Please! Stop!”

 

He needs answers. Is this home?

 

The sky is suddenly black. There are raindrops.

 

“Please. Help me!”

 

It begins to pour. And his legs grow heavy. Finally they give way as the soil turns to thick mud.

 

“Please.” Max is panting.

 

His eyes close shut. Knees dropped to the ground.

 

“Please. Help—”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He blinks awake again.

 

“Where’ve you been, Evans?”

 

It’s Manes. He’s still alive. He’s still here.

 

“We’ve missed you.”

  



	3. You should see me in a crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s taking me years to get chapters up (I apologize, I work a lot!) but now I’m trying to recon after the finale and the alien reveal. Obviously, this is now more AU. But after that finale, I can’t tell if my angst will surpass it, ha! Thank you to everyone who’s reading! It means a lot!

III. You Should See Me in a Crown 

 

Jenna pulls up to the Crashdown. Usually, she goes out of her way to avoid Liz Ortecho. Before Liz had come back, Max had been different. Some part of her inside had hoped that they could build a home together. That she could start over in Roswell. Heal the pain of betraying her sister.

 

But Max had lied. He had always been holding a part of him back. The way he would look at Liz, told her everything.

 

It stung quite a bit to find herself second.

 

Jenna walks inside, the door ringing. It’s early, there are only a handful of diners. The smell of of coffee is strong.

 

Liz looks up from the counter to see her, “Thank you for coming.”

 

Jenna, nods, takes off her deputy hat.

 

“I won’t take too much of your time,” Liz says, “I’ve just had a bad feeling and I can’t seem to shake it.”

 

Jenna watches as Liz pours a cup of coffee. “Can I get you something to eat? On the house—”

 

“I’m good.”

 

Liz pushes the cup toward Jenna, and looks up. Her eyes lock and yet immediately look away. Almost as though she is afraid to speak. Uncertain. Distrusting.

 

“I think Max is missing.”

 

“He’s on sabbatical.”

 

“No, he left without a word. He would have said something. He would have left a note, at least.”

 

“You weren’t on the best of terms, Liz. Something about an alien murder if I recall.”

 

“He told you about Rosa?” Liz asks.

 

“No. I found out myself.”

 

“I— ah, I see. Listen, I’ll be out of your hair if you could just tell me where he said he was going. I can’t reach him by phone.”

 

“Have you tried Guerrin or Isobel?” Cameron responds with a slight edge to her voice.

 

“He wasn’t on good terms with Michael. I asked. He doesn’t know. And Isobel, she’s been hard to approach. Marriage trouble.”

 

“Look, he told Sheriff Valenti he needed some time off. You do recall he took a bullet and refused medical care? He also refused counselling. He was off-duty, alone, and reckless.”

 

She could see Liz tense up.

 

“I don’t mean to be harsh here. But it seemed like all this,” Jenna gestures towards Liz with her hands, “was just too much. He usually camps out in the desert for a while. He probably doesn’t even have his phone on him. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.”

 

“Right,” Liz responds , realizing she wasn’t going to get much more from Jenna. “Did he mention how long he’d be gone?”

 

“He didn’t say. It could be a month, or two... He’s never taken time off before.”

 

Liz turns away from Jenna. Someone had approached the counter to pick up an order.

 

“Listen, I have to go.”

 

“I get it.” Liz responds. “Thanks for your help.”

  


* * *

 

 

“I’m going to show you a series of photographs.” Manes says.

 

Max is still dazed. His eyes feel dry, he blinks a few times but the feeling is still there.

 

Mane pulls out a photo of a dead woman with a handprint on her back.

 

“Do you know what this is?”

 

“No.”

 

Manes pulls up another photo, this time with a handprint on a neck. He drops it onto Max’s restrained body then pulls a third image up. Another body with a handprint.

 

“Fourteen murders,” he starts as he continues to shuffle through images of bodies, “in the last ten years. The common thread between them is this mysterious glowing handprint.”

 

“What does it have to do with me?”

 

“Evans, are you telling me you don’t recognize these bodies.”

 

“No.”

 

“Evans, you are restrained and powerless.”

 

“I don’t have powers. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You’re a lousy liar.”

 

He points the remote at the screen where the feed of Michael and Isobel used to be. This time, a video of Max plays. He is falling to his knees after releasing an electromagnetic wave. The town goes dark.

 

“After the 47 crash of your people, we captured the survivors. At least we thought we had. Until the murder of Rosa Ortecho. Jim Valenti was the first one to track you, you know. He thought it was Isobel. But finally, we have evidence to the contrary.”

 

Manes pulls up an image of Liz from the night of the shooting at the Crashdown. His breath stops short. _Liz._

 

The photo is one of the evidence shots the police had taken when they’d shown up after Max had brought Liz back to life.

 

“Kyle Valenti reported seeing a handprint on a living patient around the same time Ms. Ortecho moved back into town. The day before, a shooting was reported at the Crashdown cafe. You were there before the shooting. The Sheriff reports you pursued the suspect. Ms. Ortecho appeared to be unharmed despite the record number of bullets shot through the window. The very next night she shows up at at the hospital to see Valenti. He curiously requests an MRI scan of her chest. And the next day, he inquires about a glowing handprint.”

 

Max is tense.

 

“You were the only other witness at the scene. There was blood at the scene but no one pursued it further. That’s the Sheriff’s department for you.”

 

“What do you want from me, Manes?”

 

“My guess is she was shot.” Manes moves closer, eye to eye, “If there was a handprint on her chest, my guess is you must have tried to use your abilities on her. Did you heal her?”

 

He leans in to his ear and whispers,  “Was she wounded or dead?”

 

Max tries to pull away but his restrains keep him fixed in place.

 

“Liz has nothing to do with this!” Max breathes harshly.

 

“Is that right?”

 

Manes pulls out another photograph—an image of Rosa with Isobel’s handprint on her face.

 

“Now let me ask again. Do you know what this is?”

  


* * *

 

 

Liz puts down her phone. It was the third time today she had tried calling Max. He had told her the truth about Rosa, and yet, a part of her still could not let him go. She knew something was wrong. It was like a deep pain that started in the bones, and kept her breaths shallow.

 

She had exhausted all resources. Harassed the deputies. Michael. Even Isobel. They all looked at her like she was crazy.

 

She felt it too. Her desperation.

 

_Please. Please, God, I beg you, help me find him. Please help me stop this feeling. Please, I can’t breathe._

  
  


Her phone rings.

 

“Liz?”

 

“Michael? Did you find Max?” She asks as though her prayer would be answers that simply.

 

“No, I need your help. It’s Isobel. She’s missing again.”

 

Liz breathes heavily, “OK. I’ll be right over.”

  



End file.
